


Roses are Red.

by fishwwin



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishwwin/pseuds/fishwwin
Summary: The scars that ride down meAre there for youGive me your sharp thornsCause you’re my flower.They say the more you love roses, the more you must bear with thorns.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Kudos: 14





	Roses are Red.

**Author's Note:**

> I doubt writing all of this in the wee hours of the morning running off leftover diluted bubble tea serve for a good fic but I hope you enjoy it!!

Scarred, bruised.

Yet he opens his heart, again and again, only to be hurt once more.

It wasn’t the usual kind of pain you felt when you get a scrape or a bruise. Rather, it felt more like a burning sensation, like hot iron pressed into the skin. Like thorns, piercing through your bones.

The first time he remembered feeling the pain was when he was three. He was playing in the grass by the playground, looking at the flowers bloom. He was a rather clumsy kid, getting scrapes and bruises all the time, so one could say he had a slightly _higher_ tolerance for pain. Well, at least, compared to the average three-year-old. He picked up a fallen flower, brushing its delicate pink petals gently with his finger, examining the little veins and bumps on the petals, and how it fluttered gracefully to the ground as he plucked it from the stem. A little boy, about a year or so older, shuffled up to him and bent down, caressing the fallen petals little Minghao had plucked. 

“You dropped these,” he said, holding out the petals. 

Minghao peered up at the kid, standing there with wide eyes and a small grin, lips perking up to the sides. He reminded Minghao of a curious feline, peering at him from above with those watchful eyes. It was a blossoming feeling, warm and sweet like honey, filling his entirety like a key had unlocked something within.

“Thank…” Minghao gaped, unable to finish his sentence. It was like he was falling into an unknown realm, exhilarating and yet, Minghao felt an odd sense of relief, a wave of serenity overcoming him. 

Of course, as a kid, infatuation was entirely new to him, and he didn’t know what it was called at the time. It was just… warm. And it felt good. 

“I’m Junhui, but you can call me Jun. Nice to meet you..?” Jun gestured, waiting for him to complete his sentence.

“Minghao.”

“Well, Minghao, nice to meet you!” He grinned. A muffled voice in the background shouted something incomprehensible to Minghao, and the next thing he knew, Jun was saying goodbye, see you.

_Wait, don’t go._

The pain was unbearable. For a three-year-old, at least. All he remembered was like a flame searing his skin black, needles piercing all over his arm. It felt like forever once the pain subsided, Minghao clawed at the sand, scrambling to sit upright, catch his breath. He gingerly peered at his elbow, a fresh, red patch, crimson blood trickling out.

It never healed.

That day, he swore to himself, to the empty surroundings, that Jun was the one for him. That he was going, going to try to tell him his heart one day.

_Even if it won’t reach you by any chance, even if I run out of breath more, please wait there a little more, wait for me, Wen Junhui._

Fast forward to seventeen years old, Minghao had definitely gotten used to the pains his wretched body gave him, but they still weren’t pleasant to deal with. Much less the fact that he fell for people so easily. He was just one of those idealistic, romantic guys, dreaming of things that would never happen. Dreaming of a dream. It didn’t help that he had such a fragile heart, afraid to open up to people yet yearns for attention. As a result, he was covered in all sorts of bandages and patches, wearing long sleeves all year round, even in the hottest of summer days. 

Minghao dreaded school. Serenity Peaks had many, _many_ attractive people. And they somehow always were around Minghao, be it friend, acquaintance, classmate or not. Thirteen wounds and counting.

The pains made it hard for him to focus on anything. Wherever he went, he’d feel thorns of varying sizes piercing into him, from those open wounds. An invisible pain, one no one else could understand.

It didn’t help that the student president was none other than the popular Wen Junhui. 

It didn’t help that Minghao still hadn’t gotten over his first childhood crush. 

And it _definitely_ didn’t help that he was his desk partner for the year.

Minghao just couldn’t let go. 

Deeply rooted within him, no matter how much he tried to cut him off, it was like a rose, thorns piercing him, red petals blooming. An immortal flower, blooming in the darkness.

He couldn’t get rid of it.

Wen Junhui was the campus crush _everyone_ had. He wasn’t just eye candy, but also the top scorer of the grade level, the captain of the school’s varsity martial arts team (go tigers!) and the most outgoing, kind person anyone could ever meet. His hazel hair streaked with cherry made it hard to miss him, and he’d talk to just about anyone he came across. Not that anyone would complain, rather, they’d seek him out just to have a nice conversation.

That saved Minghao the energy of avidly trying to avoid him, but still, every glance at him sent pricks up his spine, like someone was playing reverse Jenga with needles. 

He’d feel that falling feeling again, like he was a petal, falling with the wind, no control over himself. But instead of a warm serenity, a kind peace, it was replaced with a cold draft, an icy void.

When it came to classes, the needles got larger, sharper, stabbing into him. Minghao would always hunch over his worksheets, scribbling notes, sketches, or whatever he could manage. Any other classmate would think, _wow! Minghao’s so studious, always taking notes and paying attention!_ When in fact, he was just doubling over in a mixture of pain and bliss, enjoying but despising every second of being next to Wen Junhui. 

When it came to lunch, Minghao would be the first out of the classroom, into the last stall of the boy’s restrooms, taking a deep breath, savouring every nanosecond of painless delight. Until he felt the slight tingle of thorns brushing his skin. _Soonyoung._

“It’s fried chicken today, I don’t wanna miss it! Let’s go, we’ll be last!”

Jun peeked through the doors before stepping out the stall. He didn’t have to; the pain would hit him first had Wen Junhui be nearby. 

“Was it extra bad today?”

Soonyoung was the only other person besides Minghao himself who knew about his pains. His parents never believed him, and he hid them well from the staff and other students. 

Minghao sighed, rubbing his forearm gently. “Yeah, for some reason. Hey, let’s get that chicken before the others–– race you there!”

They sprinted down the halls, past the classrooms, down the stairs, past the flock of students surrounding some _guy_ , and into the cafeteria. Grabbing their platefuls of chicken, they headed up the stairs, to the rooftop garden, where no one but them would go. 

It was the perfect spot. Not only was it quiet and windy, but there were also many different types of plants, from flowers to ferns, from fruits and vegetables to fungi. It was the one place in the school that gave Minghao solace and peace. The cherry blossom trees had just started blooming, the garden filled with various shades of pink. Soonyoung picked a fairly large tree to sit under, clearing the pink petals before plopping down and digging into his meal.

Minghao sat beside him, picking the chicken up with his chopsticks, and taking a huge bite out of it. They ate in peaceful silence, admiring the blossoms, the view of the city far below, the blue sky. Until a large spear shot itself through Minghao, thorns extending from it, piercing him more. He doubled over, spilling the rest of his chicken onto the grass and petals. Soonyoung sat up, resting a palm on his back. “Minghao!”

Just then, the door to the garden creaked open. Hazel and cherry hair fluttered in the wind, one hand holding a plate of chicken, the other a notebook and pen. 

“Minghao! I heard you usually have lunch up here with Soonyoung… Wow, it’s so nice here! We definitely should use this area much more, especially during full bloom… Oh my god, are you okay?” Junhui knelt in front of Minghao, who was folded over in agony. 

A small seed, sprouting into a bud, red rose to bloom.

“Junhui…? What are you doing here?” Minghao peered up at him, smiling, sitting back upright. Junhui looked at him, concerned, his gaze flitting from Minghao to the spilt chicken.

“Oh, just a bad stomachache. I’m fine now,” Minghao lied, fiddling his fingers. Soonyoung watched from behind, slowly eating his food.

“It’s the project the teacher assigned just now. I wanted to discuss it. We’re partners, after all,” Junhui grinned, wedging himself between Minghao and the tree root on the other side. Thorns stabbed into Minghao, its tendrils wrapping themselves over his arms. _Ignore it._

Junhui explained the project, something about jewellery, carat this, diamond that, Minghao focusing with his one hundred per cent. He leaned into Junhui, wrapping his hands around Junhui’s arm… 

Of course not. Minghao was straining to hide the pain with a smile, nodding his head every so often so he played off as paying attention to the project, when in fact he was counting the number of strands of hair made up one streak of cherry on Junhui’s head, or how his fingers moved when they flipped the page delicately or noting down something with that flawless handwriting of his.

“Oh, look at the time! Sorry, Hao, I got to get going, I have a council meeting. It was nice talking to you, see you later!” Junhui grabbed his untouched lunch and rushed back into the building, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Soonyoung slid over a root and sat in Junhui’s place, massaging Minghao’s shoulder. 

“He called me ‘Hao’.”

Soonyoung stopped massaging him. “He sure did.”

“He called me ‘Hao’.”

“Doesn’t he give everyone nick–” Soonyoung stopped himself, and nudged his chicken to Minghao. “Don’t forget to eat. You barely ate anything.”

Minghao took the chicken absentmindedly, chewing on it too many times before swallowing. His eyes were glazed, staring into space, in his world. It was like the pain was long gone, yet an uncovered scratch lay facing the sky on his palm, blood oozing out each time he wrapped his fingers around the chopsticks, picking up the chicken.

This happened for the next few weeks. Soonyoung and Minghao would get their lunch and race to the rooftop, Junhui would appear exactly 8 minutes after they arrived, and talk to Minghao about the project, about the school, or just conversation in general, and leave with exactly 17 minutes of lunch to spare (for his meetings, they suppose). The pain got increasingly worse each time, a new wound appearing every day, or an already existing one worsening. “I’ve learned so much about first aid,” Soonyoung had said. 

Minghao and Junhui got closer and closer as friends, despite Minghao’s body screaming at him to stay away. It wasn’t before long the two of them got close –– so close that they were inseparable.

“Minghao, let’s go get lun...ch…” Soonyoung arrived at their usual restroom one lunchbreak, only to find the door to the last stall ajar, empty. Perplexed, he jogged over towards the cafeteria, past the deserted classrooms and empty hallways. _Huh._ He entered the cafeteria, immediately spotting a hazel-cherry haired boy next to a shorter, silver-haired boy, slightly hunched over. _Jun and Minghao_. Soonyoung ground his teeth together, trudging towards them. “Xu Minghao–” 

The two of them walked past him with their food, not noticing him at all.

Soonyoung's heart sank. He stood there, trembling, hands balled into fists, tears begging to be released, to roll down his cheeks. It was as though he was free-falling, unable to wake up from this nightmare that was reality, that his body smashed into the earth at a thousand kilometres per hour into a billion pieces. Like he had just died.

The one person who’d stick so closely to him for comfort, who’d laugh along with his goofy jokes, who’d spill his deepest darkest secrets to, who’d done the same for him… 

Was now with someone else. Someone else who had, unknowingly, harmed him. Who had, and is still, sending needle-sharp thorns into his being every second he was near him.

Silence surrounded Soonyoung, engulfing him. _I know._

_Don’t worry, I’ll protect you, Minghao._

_I’ll cut away all your thorns._

Soonyoung rode his bike to school, the sun barely peeking out from the horizon, the sky filled with shades of purple and blue and orange and yellow. He walked over to his classroom, the one beside Minghao’s, and set his bag down on his seat.

Slowly but steadily, the sun rose over the horizon, filling the sky and earth with light. The school bell rung, signalling the start of class, and, to Minghao, yet another day of silent suffering. He hunched over, scribbling on his book once again, but this time, Jun rested his palm on his shoulder, sending spindles down his spine.

“You should take better care of your back,” Jun whispered, winking, before turning back to the teacher.

Minghao stared at him, slowly rubbing the spot where Jun had rested his hand on. No way was he dreaming. Right? Was it just a hallucination, that the pain subsided for just a _millisecond_ , right as Jun touched his shoulder?

It was lunchtime. After a long, boring class (not like Minghao ever paid much attention), they headed towards the cafeteria. 

The duo was walking down the crowded hallway, through hushed whispers, students gathering their belongings from their lockers, occasionally glancing at them. Minghao shuffled along in his usual hunch, aware, afraid, of the attention he was getting. He heard snippets of the hearsay, of the gossip, the juicy information passed from the grapevine. “I can’t believe he’d do such a thing!” “No way… _The_ Wen Junhui?” “I’m so disappointed.” “That’s so low!” “Honestly those two would go so well together… What a shame.”

The thorns kept stabbing at him, curiosity piquing. What in the world were they talking about? Was it about him? Or someone else? Why would there be a rumour of that degree about the popular student president?

“Soonyoung? What’s going on?” Minghao rushed over to him, brimming with concern. “What’s all this talk about Jun?”

Soonyoung looked over lazily. “Oh? You didn’t hear?”

Minghao opened his mouth to say something, before closing it shut without uttering a word. Soonyoung smirked, immediately wiping that look of contempt with pity.

“Rumor says that Junhui is only getting close to you to use you.”

“What… What do you mean ‘use’ me?”

Soonyoung scoffed. “Well, meaning that you have something he doesn’t, and just wants to get along with you enough to learn it, attain it, I don’t know, whatever, and then just poof! Gone!”

Minghao stared at Soonyoung, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t trust you best friend?” Soonyoung folded his arms into a mock pout. “He has no real interest in you, Minghao. He knows, he _knows_ you like him. He’s using your feelings against you, and playing it off like you guys are some _couple_ when you’re not.”

The spear, longer and sharper than ever, black as night, pointed at his neck precariously, close enough that any rash movement would get him stabbed. The thorns pulsated through the spear, writhing and glowing as though waiting for their one and only victim. Minghao’s numb body rang with the pain of Junhui’s betrayal. Being used? No shit. Why didn’t he see it coming?

Smaller needles poked at his body, the large spear stay unmoving, suspended in the air Minghao, a spear he and only he could see. Junhui approached him, his golden catlike eyes staring past the invisible spear, into Minghao’s silver ones.

“Hey. Minghao.” Jun leaned over slightly, walking back straight, hands in his pockets. “So you’ve heard.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he took a step towards the younger, arms weaving themselves around Minghao, around his waist, up to his spine and his neck, cupping his cheeks. Jun tilted his head and pressed his mouth to his, kissing gently, but passionately, pressing his body against his. Minghao could barely notice the crowd around him ooh-ing and taking out the phones, snapping away.

“A lie,” Jun said in between breaths, whispering so soft only Minghao could hear. “None of this is true. I love you.”

It was a liberating feeling. Like a huge boulder had been lifted off his shoulders. The spear dissipated into the air, gone for good, the needles too. Minghao felt his skin knit back together, his wounds open no more, just skin underneath those bandages of his, hidden behind the soft red wool of his sweater. 

Minghao fell forward into Jun’s arms. Jun took a second to compose himself, shocked by Minghao’s sudden action, returning it, hugging him. 

“I love you. I love you so much. Ever since then, those fourteen years ago, and I’ve only fallen more and more. Falling, falling. It’s exhilarating, yet so, so scary,” Minghao chuckled into Jun’s hoodie, voice muffled by the cloth.

Over time, Minghao told Jun all about his condition. How he felt an abnormal pain, how every passing moment was agony. How his scars all over, riding down him, were evidence of his torment, of the mysterious thorns, needles. Not just for Jun, but for others too, scars for others Minghao had fallen for, had fallen for to distract him from the truth. The real flower, the real reason for his torment. His flower.

All this time he had been waiting for the torment the skies inflicted on him to stop, for his wretched curse to end, to wait for the day his flower would come, to break his neverending fall. His heart, that’s engraved with his light, makes them both stronger, the thorns once piercing through Minghao’s fragile heart now weaving them both closer together, knitting them together as one, remembering each other, teaching each other, showing each other. Sharing feelings of joy, of sorrow, of hurt.

_Cause you’re my flower._


End file.
